


Johnny's Dank Anal Journey: an odASSey in three parts

by ito



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dank, Emotional Constipation, Gang Weed, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marijuana, Porn With Plot, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Experimentation, Weed, also:, dope, grass, pot, reefer, skunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 09:10:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19270183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ito/pseuds/ito
Summary: johnny buys some bud in the states and needs to find a way to get it back to korea. turns out, there's more than one reason to put stuff up your ass, and he ends up back home with two new addictions ;)





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is the first NCT fic i ever wrote, back in 2017, and it's been sitting unfinished in my drafts since then.... it's still technically unfinished but i left it at a good point so i'm posting it now for a friend's birfday ;)
> 
> i don't even stan kpop anymore but this masterpiece still holds up so here, take it

Turns out, buying weed in New York City is a lot harder than you’d expect, especially if you have no idea where to start. Johnny Seo starts by making a fake Facebook profile and downloads Tinder.

The group has very little downtime during their trip overseas – any time not spent rehearsing or performing is spent filming some video for the fans recounting their time in the big apple. Luckily, since it takes hours to get anywhere by vehicle in the congested city streets, Johnny gets to fiddle with his phone during the band’s extended time in the rental van.

He swipes right on everybody with “420-friendly” in their bio. His own profile doesn’t have his face or his real name. At first, he had photos of John Cena, John Lennon, John Mayer, and Jon Arbuckle. When he realized that his razor-sharp wit wasn’t getting him any matches, he switched to using a couple of Hansol’s trainee selfies. His bio is “I’m only in the city for a week, just trying to buy some weed.”

He doesn’t strike gold, so to speak, until the third night, when it’s two in the morning and Ten (his assigned roommate for the trip) is staring zombie-like at the television, probably not even absorbing the HGTV rerun in his sleep-deprived state. His shameless “you selling?” messages, fruitless up until now, finally hit paydirt.

"yeah $20 for a gram,” says Gomez, whose face is also obscured from his profile. Johnny isn’t sure if Gomez is his first or last name, and he’s pretty new to the whole drug business, but even he knows that $20 is a bit steep. But he’s not gonna complain.

“Im tryna get a Q,” he replies, hoping to God he’s got his measurements right.

“$130.”

“sounds good, where u wanna meet?”

“I’m in brooklyn rn.” Woof. That’s… farther than he’d hoped. But he knows better than to ask Gomez to come all the way out to Manhattan. He glances sideways at his zoned-out roommate.

“Hey Ten, you wanna go on a field trip?”

 

Johnny has navigated the New York City subway before, but that was ten years ago with his parents, and he’d never taken it off of the big island. Ten, who follows along despite having “BAD IDEA” written all over his face, keeps trying to get him to admit what they’re doing sneaking around at this hour.

“Oh come on, don’t you want to see what the city’s _really_ like?” Johnny points out. Ten glances over to an older woman sitting at the other end of the cabin, who has been muttering to herself and spitting on the floor between her feet since they first got on.

“Um… I think I’ve seen enough.”

“Well, you won’t be able to get back without me, so just hang tight for now, ‘kay?” Johnny places a hand on Ten’s knee.

It’s a couple of transfers to get to Brooklyn, and they fuck up a little bit when Johnny realizes that one of the trains doesn’t run this late at night, and when they finally get off at the station that Gomez provided, Ten looks like he’s about to puss out and call the manager. Johnny gives him a warning glare as they climb the steps and wander out above ground, pleasantly surprised by the lack of the smell of urine in the air.

It’s dark and quiet, not at all like the hubbub of Manhattan. The two wander to a park and sit beneath a streetlamp. Johnny messages Gomez their location and then they wait.

“If a cop shows up, you have to pretend to make out with me,” he jokes, nudging Ten in the side.

“Okay, you know what? If you’re doing something illegal, it’s totally unfair of you to drag me into it without even telling me what’s going on,” Ten says, frowning.

Johnny feels guilty. “Okay, okay,” he sighs. “I’m trying to buy drugs.”

“ _You’re trying to-_ ” Ten gets out before Johnny slaps a hand over his mouth. Ten swats him away. “Don’t you _dare_ touch my face with your nasty subway hands!” Then, more quietly this time, “ _You’re buying drugs?_ What the hell, Johnny? You’re going to be in so much trouble if the managers- hell, if _anyone_ finds out, you’re going to be in such shit—”

“And that’s why you’re not going to tell anyone, right?” Johnny asks, grabbing Ten’s hand and looking at him pleadingly.

“I just…” Ten shakes his head in disbelief. “Why are you even trying to get drugs? We hardly have enough time to _sleep_ , let alone get high. What are you _thinking?_ ”

“I’m thinking I’m not gonna get another chance,” Johnny replies honestly. Just then, a shadowy hooded figure approaches.

Ten visibly shrinks and Johnny’s grip on his hand tightens in a way he hopes is reassuring.

“Y’all are a cute couple,” the stranger says. “This is a weird spot for a romantic evening though.”

“Are you… the guy from Tinder?” Johnny asks.

“Yeah, you got the money?” Gomez replies, dropping the hood to reveal long, dark hair. She’s got a lip ring.

Johnny stands up, patting his pockets, and holds out a wad of green. Gomez takes it and slips a small but bulging plastic bag into his hand at the same time, in a graceful and clearly well-practiced maneuver. Johnny can feel Ten’s judgmental glare burning into the side of his head. As Gomez counts the money, she glances up at the two of them, raising an eyebrow.

“So, like, why did you use fake photos on your profile when you’re both hotter than any catfish I’ve gotten so far?”

Ten snorts and Johnny rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “We’re kind of… famous,” he says, and Ten smacks his arm. Gomez snorts.

“Uh-huh, sure,” she says, tucking the wad of cash into her pocket.

“Well, uh, thanks, you know, for the weed,” Johnny says awkwardly. Gomez gives him a look. Johnny gulps and looks away, turning and pulling Ten to his feet. “Have a good night,” he nods in the dealer’s direction.

“Yeah, you two get home safe,” Gomez replies, a smile clearly evident in her voice.

As they walk back to the subway, Ten refuses to let go of Johnny’s hand. He pokes him in the ribs. “See, even _she_ was judging you.”

“Shut up.”

“She totally knew it was your first time.”

“Shut _up_.”

“Can I see it?”

“Not until we get back to the hotel.”

Ten pouts and intentionally puts all his weight on Johnny’s arm until they finally catch a train home.

 

They get back to their room at just a bit after four, and Ten seems either to have forgotten his request or to be too exhausted to care, because he flops face-first onto his bed and falls asleep with his shoes on. Johnny, on the other hand, is enamored with his purchase. He squeezes the bag, sniffs it, opens it, and sniffs it again. The smell is like nothing he can describe. It vaguely smells like Italian spices, but earthier, more sour but sweet at the same time. There’s also a lot more of it than he expected. How was he going to finish the bag in four days?

Whatever, that was a worry for another time. The important thing now was to figure out how to smoke it.

 

He doesn’t get the chance until the next day, when, after rehearsing for a full god-forsaken fourteen hours, the group gets to return to the hotel after dinner to bathe and lay down until their bodies stop screaming. Johnny offers to share the weed with Ten, who wholeheartedly refuses, but still continuously sniffs the bag as Johnny assembles a smoking apparatus out of empty soda bottles.

“Why does it…” Ten says, pausing to inhale again – “What does it smell like?”

“I dunno, it’s just a plant. An herb, if you will,” Johnny replies, scrolling through the gravity bong WikiHow on his phone. He doesn’t quite get how it works, but if he can construct it himself, he’ll feel like a genius engineer for sure. He’s got the tools lain out on the bathroom floor, his roommate perched on the counter between the sink and the icebox. He puts the Dasani bottle in the Sprite, screws on the cap, and…

“I think I’m done?” he says, sitting back and staring at his creation.

“You’re not gonna smoke it in here,” Ten says, as if daring him to try it.

“Nono, that’s a recipe for disaster. Think we can get out on that little mini-balcony thing?”

The window of the hotel room has what cannot even fairly be considered a balcony, just a French sliding door and a waist-high iron fence for safety. Johnny squeezes as close to the open air as possible while Ten watches from the nearby bed. After pinching apart the weed and crumbling it up to the best of his ability, Johnny pokes it into the shoddy homebrew bowlpiece he made by melting and reshaping the plastic bottle cap. He lights it with the Bic he bought at the convenience store on the way home, slowly lifts the Dasani bottle, hastily unscrews the cap, puts his mouth over the hole, and gets a mouthful of water as he inhales.

Coughing and spluttering, he madly wipes at his face with his sleeve as Ten absolutely fucking loses it. “I must have done something wrong,” he mutters, fanning away the residual smoke that floats around his head.

“You think?” Ten wheezes.

The second time goes more smoothly. Once again, Johnny watches as the cherry in the bowl glows and the bottle fills with milky smoke. He unscrews the cap, and this time hovers his parted lips just over the opening, gently pushing the bottle down and sucking in the smoke as it comes out. He doesn’t get any water in his mouth this time, and ignores Ten’s exaggerated slow clapping as he exhales out the window.

“So, are you high yet?”

Johnny blinks, looking around the room as if checking to see if there’s any visual hallucinations hiding anywhere. “Don’t think so,” he says.

“Then do it again, dude. I want to see you get _waaasted_.”

Happy to oblige, and also interested to see how much smoke he can get at once, Johnny re-packs the bowl with as much weed as he can fit. He once again fills the grav with smoke, watching intently as the hypnotizing fog curls in the steamy plastic bottle. He pulls extra slowly this time, making sure all the bud is as burnt up as it’s gonna get, and by the time he’s lifted as far as he can, the smoke is opaque and slightly yellowish.

“That looks kind of nasty,” Ten says. Johnny secretly agrees, but sticks out a stubborn lower lip as he resolutely unscrews the cap and goes in for the kill.

The coughing fit that ensues has him wondering if his lungs will ever forgive him. Ten laughs at first, but then when thirty seconds have gone by and Johnny is still hacking and choking, he gets up to get him a glass of water, which Johnny thankfully receives with teary eyes.

“Holy shit, man, your face is so red.”

“I feel like I’m burning up, am I sweating?”

“Well yeah, but I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Ugh, God, could you get me a tissue? My nose is running.” Ten rolls his eyes but obliges, coming back to hand over a box of tissues and sitting cross-legged in front of his hyung.

“Sooo… are you high yet?”

“Um, ask me again when I’m not literally dying.”

“You’re not literally dying, you big baby. D’you think you’re done smoking though?”

“For now, yeah.”

“Cool,” Ten says, getting to his feet. “I’m gonna take a shower. You better be high when I get back.”

That’s a dumb thing for someone who seems morally opposed to the whole situation to say, Johnny thinks. Then when Ten gets undressed and locks the bathroom door behind him, Johnny is left with only the company of his own thoughts.

Here’s the notable thoughts that cross his mind in the space of time it takes Ten to shower:

 _Dragons are just big snakes with wings. Maybe in the olden days_ (you know, when dragons existed) _snakes were just bigger. And had wings._

 _Why does everything in here seem so big?_ (He's lying on the ground.)

_The pita is a fucking great invention. It just makes so much sense._

_Why don’t beards cover the whole face? If goosebumps make your hair stand on end, then do you get goosebumps under your beard?_

_Why does everything seem so small now?_ (It’s because he stood up.)

He also comes up with a bunch of really cool band names that he types into a note on his phone. When Ten comes out of the shower, he finds Johnny sitting in front of the window, trying to wrestle his legs into the lotus pose.

“Are you high now?” he asks, amused.

“Dude, can you do this shit? Why can’t I do this shit?” Johnny responds.

“I’ll take that as a yes. What’s it like?”

“I feel so fucking smart.”

Ten tries and fails to contain his laugh, which bursts from him like an alien from the chest of a space explorer.

“Dude, _dude_ , have you seen _Alien_? That shit is so good.”

“Literally where is this shit coming from.”

“From my _mind_ , man! I swear it’s like I can think a million things a second now.”

Ten doesn’t try to stifle himself this time. He sits next to Johnny by the window.

“So uh, what are you going to do now? In your… elevated state,” he says.

“I wanna watch a movie.” Johnny gasps. “I wanna eat popcorn! Oh my God, I wanna eat a bagel sandwich… and Thin Mints, oh man, it’s been so long since I had Girl Scout Cookies… Can we go get some food?”

Ten smiles. “Only if we ask the manager first.” He laughs when Johnny goes pale. “I’m kidding, God, the look on your face. You’re in no position to talk to anyone, your eyes are barely open.”

Johnny huffs. “Can we just go to the vending machine then? I don’t actually want to go out.” Ten shrugs and gets to his feet, grabbing Johnny’s arm and hauling him up with him.

Johnny spends all of _eleven dollars_ on snacks. Ten then watches, amazed, as he eats every single one, claiming all of it is the best food he’s ever had.

“Dude, seriously, this is the most satisfying thing I’ve ever done, _including_ my debut probably.”

Then Johnny takes what might be the best shower of his life, which lasts forty minutes, mostly because he keeps trying to jerk off and then getting distracted. Seriously, the way his mind wanders is no joke – first he’ll have a really great image conjured, and then he’ll go from picturing Eliza Dushku (don’t ask, she’s hot and also the first girl to come to mind for some reason) riding the absolute soul out of his body, to remembering the scene with the monkeys from _Space Odyssey_. He does come eventually, but when he does he’s thinking about Taeyong in his Hitchhiker collaboration music video. Weird. Best not to dwell on it.

When he finally gets out of the shower, Ten’s watching television again. This time it’s not HGTV, but instead some reality show where a bunch of women with fake tans are all shouting over one another. Johnny suddenly feels fucking winded. He flops down on the bed next to Ten and watches the ladies onscreen, not really paying attention but waiting to see if they’ll start throwing punches. He quickly loses interest, instead laying back and staring at the ceiling.

“You’re _not_ falling asleep here,” Ten says, not looking away from the TV.

“Come spoon me,” Johnny responds. Ten groans loudly. “Don’t give me sass, come and cuddle with hyung.”

Sighing, Ten says, “Big or little spoon?”

“Don’t even play, you know I’m in a little spoon kinda mood,” Johnny replies, scooting up to rest his head on the pillow. Ten gripes, mostly to himself (Johnny’s already dozing off and not listening), and turns of the TV and then the lights.

It’s the best fucking sleep Johnny’s ever gotten.

 

It’s probably the weed (it’s definitely the weed) but Johnny’s not even the first to wake up the next morning. Instead it’s Doyoung, who wakes them up by standing at the foot of the bed and loudly commenting on how adorable they are.

“Yeah, people keep saying that,” Ten grumbles, rubbing his eyes.

Johnny’s mouth feels like it’s made of sandpaper. He stumbles to the bathroom and drinks two glasses of water. Halfway through the third, he examines himself in the mirror, pulling at the bags under his eyes and checking to see if they’re still bloodshot. Nope, the drug seems to have left his system.

After pulling on clothes and scrubbing his face, Johnny meets with the others in the hotel lobby, and what follows is the longest day yet. Rehearsal til six, followed by a hurried dinner, followed by a dress rehearsal, followed by a performance in front of a theater full of hysterical fans. Oddly enough, Johnny actually feels himself _gaining_ energy as the day extends, eventually reaching peak excitement just before the show and riding the resulting adrenaline until the end. Afterwards, breaking from an extremely sweaty group hug, the exhausted boys return to the hotel to unwind. The others want to hang out together and celebrate, but Johnny of course has other plans. He excuses himself from the gathering in Jaehyun’s room a bit earlier than the others, yawning exaggeratedly.

He doesn’t expect Ten to follow him, but sure enough he shows up ten minutes later, after he’s assembled the ol’ gravity bong and begun packing it with weed, probably to watch him smoke again and this time be present for his mind’s descent (or rather, ascent) into chaos.

And that’s what they do for a little while: Johnny tokes up while Ten watches, his chin rested on his knees. After the second hit Johnny is feeling high – he can actually _feel_ it this time, instead of just thinking some dumb shit and then laughing at himself. His ears and knees kind of tingle and there’s a cloudy pressure behind his eyes.

“What’s it like?” Ten asks.

“Want to try it?” Johnny offers again.

“No, just tell me about it.”

Johnny thinks, slowly and deeply (like making sweet love to his brain). “Well…” he starts, “my ears a burning a little. Do they look pink?”

“No, but your eyes do.”

“Those are burning too.”

“Sounds unpleasant.”

“Ugh, but _dude_ , I feel so relaxed. You have no idea. And anyway, the physical stuff is only half of it.”

“I’m sure to some people the physical effects are the best part,” Ten says thoughtfully. Johnny shrugs. He actually forgot that weed could be used medicinally for a minute there. “What else is there, though? Are you seeing things?”

“Not yet,” Johnny says wistfully. “But I feel like I’m thinking about things in a whole different way.”

“Explain.”

Johnny tries to search for the words, but pinning down the proper phrasing is like pinning down a live butterfly.

“Hang on, I have to write something down real quick,” he says. Ten scoffs.

“You really just don’t make a bit of sense when you’re on this shit, do you?”

Johnny, who has taken out his phone only to have already forgotten what it was he wanted to write, just smiles sheepishly. “Yeah, I guess I’m being a real dumbass, huh?”

“Well yeah, but it’s just sad when you say it,” Ten teases. “I’m serious, though, I want to know what it’s like.”

“Well here,” Johnny sighs, reaching around for the bag of weed. “This next bowl’s for you, if you want it. I really don’t think I’ll be able to explain it any better than I have already.”

“I already told you, I don’t want any,” Ten says, but his expression seems somewhat less assured now as he watches Johnny pack some weed into the bottle cap. Johnny wiggles his eyebrows. “Besides,” Ten continues, “isn’t smoking supposed to be hard on your vocal chords? What are you gonna do if you lose your voice?”

“Well, if I keep getting a maximum of two lines per song, I think I’m gonna be alright. Besides, smoking once isn’t going to do much to you. I woke up this morning feeling fine. You might not even get high the first time.”

Ten narrows his eyes. “Why do you want to get me high so bad?”

Johnny raises his hands defensively. “Yo, if you don’t want it, that’s just more weed for me. I just seriously feel like I’m thinking about everything way differently now.”

“…And?”

“And, I dunno, it’s just so… nice?” Johnny runs a hand through his hair. “Like, everything is funny. I feel so comfortable in my own head for once, like… things have slowed down and now instead of thinking about everything at the same time I’m thinking about it all so… so _deeply_. I feel like I can learn a lot from this stuff.”

“You sound like a crazy stoner,” Ten says, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I bet I do.” Johnny’s face drops a bit. He remembers that weed has a much different image in America from how it’s perceived in other countries. He also realizes that, at best, he probably has alienated himself a bit in the eyes of his friend, and at worst, Ten might actually be a bit worried for him. Sure enough, Ten’s face has hardened a bit, his brows just a bit too close together for Johnny’s liking. Johnny glances guiltily at the loaded bong in front of him, and then is surprised when Ten breaks the short silence.

“I’ll take a small hit, I guess,” he says, eyes now fixated on the bottles. Johnny begins to wonder if he’s not as good at reading expressions as he thought.

“How ‘bout if you take as much smoke as you want, and I can get the rest?” he offers. Ten nods, and watches almost studiously as Johnny lights up and fills the bottle once again.

“You shouldn’t try to suck up the smoke,” he says seriously, carefully unscrewing the cap. “Just push the bottle down slowly and inhale whatever comes out.”

“Thanks, professor Seo,” Ten snorts. But he does as he’s told, hovering his lips above the mouth of the bottle and gently pushing it down, catching the smoke between his slightly pursed lips. He gets about halfway before he’s sputtering, and Johnny relieves him of holding the bottle, rubbing comforting circles into his shoulder with his other hand. He finishes the rest of the smoke as promised, while Ten runs to the bathroom to get a drink. Johnny can’t help but laugh to himself when he hears his coughing echoing from the other room, followed by a frustrated “ _aaargh_ ” when the water doesn’t make it stop.

Ten comes back with a shaky cup and watery eyes. “I think that's enough for me. You’re a terrible influence.”

“I don’t know how I will sleep at night after this,” Johnny says. “Oh wait, I’ll just smoke some more weed.”

“You’re awful,” Ten groans. Then he makes an odd smacking noise. “Oh, I can feel my tongue.”

“Here we go,” Johnny beams.

“You evil, evil man. Now I’m not gonna be let into heaven.”

“Oh really.”

“God’s gonna be like, remember that time you smoked weed?”

“And then you’ll have to join me in hell?”

“Fuck, I’m not gonna be able to get away from you am I?”

Johnny tackles him with a hug, throwing both of them to the ground. “Nope, you’ll have to be my big spoon in the underworld as well.”

“Noooo,” Ten giggles, covering his face with his hands. Then he gasps, and holds them up above his head. “What the fuck.”

“What is it this time?” Johnny says, amused.

“I’ve got nice hands.”

“You do.” Johnny reaches up with the arm that’s not pinned under Ten’s shoulders and laces their fingers together.

“Do you believe in God?” Ten says suddenly.

“Oh, man, you’re pretty far gone, aren’t you?” Johnny laughs.

“Do you believe God made my hands.”

“I think God made my dick.”

“I regret ever speaking any words ever.”

“God made my dick, and he was like, this is my most beautiful creation. I am going to give it to my most beautiful man.”

“He made your dick before he made you?”

“He made my dick before he made _anything._ ” Ten snorts and Johnny goes on, releasing his hand in favor of running his fingers through Ten’s hair. “In the beginning, God made my dick, and he was like, ‘damn, son.’ And it was good.”

“You’re _definitely_ going to hell.”

“And I’ll see you there, you dirty boy.”

“Ugh, okay, you are officially banned from saying things from now on.”

They stay on the ground, idly chatting and cuddling until there’s a knock on the door. Ten jolts and sits up straight, and then groans, putting his head between his knees. “Who is it?” Johnny calls out.

It’s Jaehyun. Ten scrambles to tuck the bong away somewhere out of sight while Johnny goes to open the door. He tries to calm his nerves, but that’s hard when he can literally hear his heartbeat surging in his head.

“Whassup, guys?” Jaehyun says. Doyoung’s there too, an arm thrown around Jaehyun’s shoulder, and they are both clearly _smacked_. Johnny lets out a breath of relief when he smells the alcohol on Jaehyun’s breath.

“Not much. We’re about to go to bed actually,” Johnny lies.

“Ahhh yes, you two are the _cutest_ cuddle-buddies,” Doyoung slurs. He pokes Jaehyun in the cheek. “I told you, I found them sleeping together this morning, right? So _cuuuute_.”

Jaehyun looks at Johnny and quirks his eyebrow. “Were they wearing clothes?”

“Don’t be weird!” Ten says, jogging up to join the conversation.

“And the other bed was _completely made_ ,” Doyoung snickers. “Maybe you two should just get a separate apartment.”

“Maybe you two should _get married_ ,” Jaehyun adds, and the two of them dissolve into giggles.

“Yeah, yeah, you guys are funny,” Johnny says. “Is there a reason you’re here? It’s late.”

“ _Ohh_ ,” Doyoung says, “we didn’t mean to interrupt your _private time_ , but we missed you assholes and we _knew_ you would just be talking and acting gay instead of sleeping like you said you would be.”

“Talking is gay now?” Ten frowns.

“What do you mean, talking has always been gay,” Johnny says. “Everyone who talks is gay, duh.”

“Can we come in?” Jaehyun asks, barging in while he says it. Doyoung is literally _hanging_ off of him, but whether it’s because he’s an affectionate drunk or because he can’t actually stand by himself at this point, Johnny’s not sure. He catches Ten’s eye, the latter looking a bit pale. Oh right, the weed—

“What’s that _smell_?” Doyoung asks loudly.

“Oh, uh—” Johnny starts.

“Johnny farted,” Ten interrupts. Johnny glares at him, but he just shrugs apologetically.

“Holy shit, Johnny, what have you been eating?” Jaehyun asks.

“Y’know, I guess was wrong about the gay shit. Smells like you’ve just been farting this whole time,” Doyoung adds.

“Jokes on you, farting is _also_ gay,” Johnny says, somewhat relieved that his shitfaced teammates seem to be buying the gig.

“Everything’s gay when you do it,” Doyoung fires back.

“Okay, can you guys like, leave?” Ten says. “We really are trying to go to sleep.”

“Oh, get a room,” Jaehyun laughs.

“ _We have a room! You’re in our room!_ ” Ten points out. Johnny takes this cue to shove Doyoung towards the door.

“You guys are no fun,” Jaehyun mumbles as Ten pinches his arm to get him to leave.

When they finally get the door shut, cutting off Doyoung’s sing-song “ _Goodnight lovebirds!_ ” Ten turns to look at Johnny with a long, deep sigh.

“Sorry,” Johnny says, not quite sure what he’s apologizing for.

“I feel like I just had a heart attack,” Ten replies.

“Paranoia is also a thing that happens when you smoke weed,” Johnny points out.

“Do you think we’re being too gay?”

“Shut up, those two were just being assholes.”

Ten is quiet for a second. “Can we cuddle again tonight, then?” he asks finally.

Johnny grins. “Definitely.”

He’s big spoon this time. Ten feels pretty small against him, but very warm and soft. It’s nice. Johnny realizes that this and the night before were the best physical encounters he thinks he’s ever had, and he wonders if it’s because of the weed. Of course it’s the weed.

They’re quiet, and Johnny thinks that Ten’s fallen asleep until he shifts around in his arms and murmurs, “What are you going to do when we have to go back to Korea?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you have a lot of weed left. Are you just gonna throw it out? Wasn’t it expensive?”

Johnny hums thoughtfully. “I guess I don’t know. We might have to smoke it all before we leave.”

“I’m not gonna be able to help you with that. My throat is killing me and I feel like the cops are gonna arrest me and call my parents.”

“That sucks.”

“How do you not get nervous?”

“Ah, well you know me. I’m just a chill guy.”

Ten snorts and elbows him gently in the stomach. And then the conversation fades, and the two drift off to sleep. Ten gets pulled under first, and Johnny is comforted by his soft snores as he lays awake, mind spinning over what his bedmate brought up.

He’s a bit fuzzy on the details of laws pertaining to marijuana overseas, but he’s heard enough about idols getting caught up in some _very_ threatening drug-related scandals to know that how he chooses to approach the situation could decide the rest of his life.

Best not to do anything stupid.

 

 _This is very, very stupid_ , Johnny thinks to himself in the shower the next day. The smart thing to do, of course, would be to flush all $130 worth of bud down the toilet, and that just really doesn’t appeal to him at all. Last night, while holding a peacefully sleeping Ten, Johnny tried to come up with a better solution, and by the time he woke up the next morning, he knew what he would have to do.

He would have to put it in his ass.

“This is fine,” he assures himself out loud. He tries not to think about what he ate earlier (and whether or not he’d be touching it) as he lubes up his fingers with hotel-sized lotion and reaches around himself, bracing himself against the tile wall with his other arm.

Yes, he’s high. It shouldn’t even be a question at this point. The weed he’s been smoking is an indica, whatever that means, and hopefully it will dull whatever pain may come. He really has no idea what to expect.

The first finger meets some resistance and he bites the inside of his cheek, looking around for any other slippery thing in the shower that he could use. He settles for some lovely unscented hotel-brand shower gel, and tries again. This time, his index finger sinks in, slowly, and it doesn’t… hurt, exactly? It’s a bit uncomfortable, sure, but for the most part, it just feels like there’s something stuck up his ass. Johnny tries to push it in further, his wrist starting to ache from the awkward angle. He gets halfway past the second knuckle before the burn in his arm gets to be too much, and he gives up on that position, instead sliding down to lay in the tub, leaning against the back wall of the shower and allowing the hot water to rain down on him.

He spaces out for a sec, enjoying the warm water splattering on his face and running down his chest. Then he remembers his mission and squeezes out more shower gel, spreading his legs and running his hand down between his thighs. He rolls his eyes upward as he fits a finger back inside, wiggling it around a bit before adding another one.

How anyone can fit an entire dick up there is beyond him.

The second finger is more of a stretch, but it still doesn’t hurt too bad. It feels—well, it feels kind of _dirty_ , actually. Kind of sexy. Johnny moves his fingers around, in and out, scissoring and curling them, trying to make room inside of himself. The feeling of getting stretched out is uncomfortable, sure, but… not _unpleasant_. He tries to stuff them in as far as the angle will allow, moving them back and forth and _what the FUCK was that._

It’s like a flash of heat rippling up his spine and his stomach at the same time, not in a bad way oh good _God_ not in a bad way at _all_. He feels the warmth spread to his dick and he doesn’t have to look down to know he’s getting hard. Johnny feverishly tries to curl his fingers the right way again, whimpering when he gets close and then choking on a groan when he barely brushes against his prostate a second time. His eyes actually lose focus for a second, and his chest is heaving. Holy mother of God he needs more.

He is almost reluctant to take out his fingers to add more gel, worried that he will somehow miss his window of opportunity and not be able to find his prostate again. He exhales as he pushes two fingers back in, then carefully adding a third. This time the stretch is almost enjoyable – it makes a shiver run up his body in anticipation. He pushes his wet bangs out of his face with his free hand before reaching down to circle it around his cock, now fully hard and laying against his stomach. He lets out a shaky moan at the sensations coming at him from both sides. Why the _hell_ hadn’t he tried this before?

More probing eventually pays off with another press against his prostate, and he literally fucking _whines_ before clapping his hand over his mouth. He isn’t used to being this vocal, but he also isn’t used to being pleasured from the inside out, so.

He needs _more_. His fingers just aren’t doing enough – the angle is too difficult to actually get a good jab into the sweet spot, and Johnny can feel himself getting worked up without any climax in sight. It would be so, so much easier to have someone else do this to him… Johnny’s face heats up at the thought of anyone else seeing him like this. He’d have to think of another way.

His eyes fall on the bottle of shower gel sitting on the soap dish. It’s slender and cylindrical, about the length of his middle finger. He considers the option for maybe half a second before grabbing the bottle and smearing it with gel. He lifts his butt off the shower floor, places the bottle underneath him, and hesitantly sinks down on it.

It’s really, really difficult not to think about a hard cock pressing into him at this moment, and Johnny feels a shudder run through his body at the thought. He realizes, and it’s probably just the weed talking, but wouldn’t a dick be able to reach deeper than anything else? Don’t think about it. _Don’t think about it._

He raises himself to his knees, groaning as he feels the bottle shifting inside of him, and reaches back to grab onto the protruding cap and try and wiggle it around. He pulls it out slowly and presses it back in, thigh muscles fluttering and making his legs shake. How can he get the right angle again—

There’s a knock on the door. Johnny jolts, slumping against the shower wall with his fingers pressing the bottle up and forward, so close and yet—

“Johnny, how much longer are you gonna be in there? I gotta pee,” Ten whines from outside.

“Just give me a minute, I’ll be out soon,” Johnny chokes out, staying still until he hears soft retreating footsteps. Okay, time’s up. He sits back down, wrapping a hand tight around his cock and pumping ferociously, chewing on his bottom lip and trying to conjure up a good mental image to finish on. His normal fantasies aren’t exactly apropos to the situation – in his mind he’s not usually the one getting penetrated – and instead he settles for just thinking some dirty talk to himself.

He hasn’t thought that kind of shit in a while, and it’s pretty nasty, the things his brain comes up with. He calls himself a slut, considers about how he’s gonna come with something up his ass, how he wishes it was a cock up there instead ( _oops, shit, just go with it_ ), thinks about how bad he just wants to get filled up and fucked out. He comes with a strangled whine, pressing his lips together in a vain attempt to keep quiet. The bottle slides out, and he washes it before turning off the shower and limping over to get a towel.

When he steps out of the bathroom, he sees Ten sitting on his bed, this time watching Guy Fieri noisily consume some fried shellfish on TV. He looks up at Johnny and grins.

“Have a nice shower, hyung?” Johnny’s eyes widen at the honorific, and Ten snickers. “I thought you had fallen asleep until I heard the noises. Does the weed make it better?”

Johnny rubs his eyes, embarrassed. “Yeah, something like that.”

 

The next day, Johnny stumbles across the perfect tool for his heist in a gift shop – a small, capsule-shaped pill box about two-thirds the length of his thumb. It is made of smooth plastic and doesn’t have any uncomfortably protruding hinges or clasps, instead composed of two pieces that slide together. Perfect for keeping something up the asshole. He snags some condoms and KY Jelly from the mini store in the hotel lobby, and buys a mini box of Froot Loops as well because why not. And with that, the preparations have been laid out. Now all that’s left is to pray that he doesn’t get arrested upon arrival in Seoul.

That night, he gets high again, obviously, and fingers himself in the shower, again, obviously. Afterwards, he watches TV with his arm around Ten, whose head fits nicely into the curve of his shoulder, and then they only get a few short hours of sleep before they are woken up in the wee morning to catch a plane.

Ten, bless his heart, doesn’t question why Johnny would want to take another shower despite having showered the night before. Johnny preps himself more quickly than the two times before, and then puts the weed in the capsule, in a condom, in his ass. It would be a bit of a stretch (ha) to say that he doesn’t feel it when he stands up, but at least it’s manageable, and not, y’know, giving him a boner.

(Unfortunately, the same cannot be said when, four hours into the flight, some turbulence and subsequent shifting causes the container to sneak up and press against his prostate. Johnny is _not_ interested in joining the mile-high club – at least, not with his own right hand and a capsule of weed – so he just bunches up his jacket on his lap and presses his head back against his seat, face pale and teeth clenched.)

When they touch down in Seoul there is absolutely no relief whatsoever, and then there’s maybe a little bit of an exhale when the bomb-sniffing dogs at the airport seem not to have minored in drug detection, and then there’s possibly a little spike in adrenaline when Taeyong asks why he’s been so quiet the past twenty hours when they’re in the car on the way to the dorm. There’s no real moment of relaxation until Johnny all but barricades himself in their bathroom (home sweet home) and tugs on the condom, hissing softly as his sweet, sweet dank slips out of him. He feels… well, there’s no better way to say it: he feels _loose_. Like suddenly having something up his ass is his natural state of being. He instinctively reaches back, leaning against the sink, and groans under his breath at how easily his fingers slip back inside.

That evening he orders a dildo online. Fuck it, this is how things are going to be now, apparently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man i missed a golden pun opportunity here, wait for it --
> 
> ...  
> ...  
> ...
> 
>  
> 
> cherry'd bong
> 
> thank you


	2. Chapter 2

Two weeks pass. There’s this sweet spot between the end of promotions and the beginning of preparations for the next comeback, and Johnny intends to make use of that time the best he can. The members start teasing him for how long he’s been taking in the shower recently, and a few times he’s interrogated by some random night owl on where he’s sneaking off to in the middle of the night.

The first time, he just tells Mark that he couldn’t sleep after being woken up by his obnoxious choice in a midnight snack – “Really Mark? Popcorn?” – and the lie seems to go over smoothly. The second time he runs into Taeil, who is watching what seems like either very romantic softcore pornography or an intensely erotic foreign film, and he either doesn’t care enough to push the subject, or is equally ashamed of himself and doesn’t want to talk about it.

The third time it’s Taeyong, who definitely isn’t about to let him off the hook that easily.

The bigger problem is that he’s caught not on his way out, but on his way _back_ , after he’s already smoked on the roof and gotten all stupid and apparently smelly.

Taeyong leans in to sniff him, and if you’ve never had Lee Taeyong get all up in your business before, you definitely couldn’t imagine what it’s like. Of course, Johnny’s got a bit of a different perspective than most people, in that he has to crane his neck to look down at the pretty boy standing in his personal space. But oh man, the look on that beautiful face sure is frightening.

“Do you have a secret pet skunk that you’re hiding from us, or have you been smoking?” Taeyong says slowly. Johnny snorts at the comparison before remembering that he’s supposed to be sober. Taeyong raises an eyebrow. “You don’t smell like tobacco. Seriously, did you go roll around in dirt or something? What’s up with this smell? And where have you been?”

Johnny considers telling Taeyong that he farted (it could work again, right?), but instead he just opens his mouth and closes it again. He does this a few times, actually, and rubs the back of his neck for good measure. It’s an odd feeling, when you know you’re in trouble, when you’ve gotten caught doing something you know you shouldn’t have been doing in the first place. Like a hot and cold burning sensation twisting his stomach with guilt, his cheeks heating up in shame. Johnny has to decide whether to come clean, or to construct an excuse with his brain moving at half-speed thanks to his good friend Mary Jane.

“Come on, man,” Taeyong says in a soft voice that doesn’t at all match the intensity of his stare. “If something’s going on, I hope you can trust me.”

Ugh, he had to pull the whole caring-and-sympathetic-leader shit, didn’t he. Not fair. Johnny sighs. “I don’t wanna get in trouble,” he whispers.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Taeyong says gently. “Especially if it’ll get me in trouble as well,” he adds, and Johnny laughs nervously, a quick little exhale from his nose. Taeyong puts a hand on his shoulder, and Johnny puts his own hand on top of it.

“I _have_ been smoking,” he admits finally. “But not cigarettes. I’ve been smoking weed.”

Taeyong’s eyes widen, and then the douche has the nerve to burst out laughing. He manages to stifle himself by smushing a hand against his mouth, his other hand still on Johnny’s shoulder digging its fingers in and trembling with mirth.

“What the fuck,” Johnny says. This is _not_ how he expected the conversation to go.

“I, ah fuck, I thought you were _sleeping_ with someone!” Taeyong says, heaving with silent giggles. “I thought you were out fooling around with someone who smells really bad!”

“Ah, well, I guess… That’s a relief?” Johnny says, still very confused. At least he’s not yelling at him.

“I should’ve known, I should’ve known,” Taeyong says, and he can’t be wiping an _actual_ tear from his eye, he must just be doing it to make fun of Johnny – “… seriously, though? Where did you get weed?”

“New York,” Johnny replies.

Taeyong hums and nods. “That explains why you were so goofy on that trip, and why you didn’t want to party with us after the show.”

“Yes, you’re putting it together now I see,” Johnny says, rolling his eyes. Honestly, it’s a miracle that he hasn’t been caught until now. It’s hard keeping secrets when you live with over a half-dozen other boys, and even harder when most of your young adult life is documented and spread online as far as it’ll go. Even though Taeyong’s expression has softened, Johnny still feels guilty.

“You have to get rid of it, you know,” Taeyong says seriously.

“That’s what I was doing,” Johnny replies.

Taeyong raises his eyebrows, clearly in disbelief. “You were getting rid of it?”

“Yeah, by… burning it.”

“That is definitely, absolutely _not_ what I meant. Throw it out,” Taeyong says in his stern leader voice. Johnny huffs and thinks.

“Well, don’t you want to try it first?” he asks.

“Excuse me?” Taeyong responds, as if insulted by the offer.

“Oh, come on, you’ve never thought about it?” Johnny pushes. Taeyong shakes his head, but his eyes are downcast and betray a hint of curiosity. Johnny knows that peer pressure is wrong and all, but he also knows that seeing his leader on drugs was something he wouldn’t want to miss, so he continues: “You’ve never wondered what all the songs are about? You know, in America, I’d say that most singers smoke weed. Most _people_ , actually. It’s more common than you’d think—”

“We’re not in America anymore,” Taeyong interjects. He opens his mouth again, as if to say more, but hesitates, and then says, “Ho- how do you even smoke it? Do you know how to roll a joint?”

“Not exactly,” Johnny says, trying to keep the gleam of victory from his eyes. “Want to see?”

Taeyong glares at him – although, to be fair, his glare isn’t too far off from his regular resting face. You kind of have to be close to him to know if he’s mad at you for real or not – and then he directs his gaze to the kitchen floor, a mental war clearly being waged inside his head. “Show me,” he says finally, scoffing when Johnny can’t hide the grin that splits across his face.

Johnny keeps all his paraphernalia in a waterproof duffel on the roof of their apartment building, tucked away behind some gross old crates. Taeyong stands with his arms crossed as Johnny crouches and pulls from the bag a jar of weed, a scuffed-up lighter, a Nalgene full of water, and another, empty plastic bottle that has clearly been tampered with. First of all, it’s _nasty_ , slightly darkened and crusty with ash. There’s a hole in the side, through which a hollow tube has been poked and sealed off at the edges with electrical tape. The bowlpiece is a little pocket of tin foil with holes poked in it. The overall image is very unpleasant.

“I might send you to rehab just for making me look at this,” Taeyong says flatly.

“Just watch, it’s pretty cool,” Johnny says earnestly. He pinches at some loose weed in his jar and tucks it into the bowl. He offers the homemade bong to Taeyong but immediately draws back when he sees his eyes narrow. “I’ll just do it, then, and you tell me after if you want to try,” he says.

Johnny has found that he likes smoking with this bong much better than he did with the grav back in America. The smoke is less harsh, and it feels like it reaches deeper into his lungs. Also, hearing the gurgling noise and watching the water bubble up with smoke is just straight-up fun. He exhales slowly so that the cloud is thick and white. Then he holds the bottle out to Taeyong, who wordlessly accepts it and stares at it like Johnny just handed him a dead raccoon.

“Want me to light it for you?” Johnny offers. Taeyong glares at him again, but doesn’t say anything and instead lifts the bottle to his lips. Johnny takes this as a yes, reaching out to spark up the lighter and cupping his free hand around the bowl to protect the flame. Unfortunately, he’s forgotten to let Taeyong know what to do when the bottle and his lungs are full of smoke, and Taeyong breaks away, smoke puffing out from his mouth and nose as he all but coughs his guts up. He shoves the bong back into Johnny’s hands and wordlessly flails his hand at the water bottle, which Johnny passes to him apologetically.

“I think I might puke,” Taeyong says finally, wiping away the water that ran down his chin and neck. Johnny watches his eyes flutter a bit and smiles to himself. He knows what Taeyong must be feeling – a hit like that, combined with the coughing fit that followed, have probably made the guy a little lightheaded, if not very, very stoned.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Johnny laughs, packing another bowl for himself. He’s gotten pretty high already tonight, but the adrenaline from running into Taeyong made him sober up fast.

“What’s being high like?” Taeyong asks as Johnny loads up another bowl.

“Hopefully you’ll get to know soon enough,” Johnny responds, picking up the lighter and taking a hit. He feels Taeyong’s dark eyes on him, and when he looks up, he’s rewarded with an intense stare. Not a glare this time, just a stare, and Johnny blushes in spite of himself. Hopefully it’s too dark to notice, but still, going pink is preferable to getting the air punched out of him by Taeyong’s handsome face at full wattage. It still happens sometimes, which is ridiculous because Johnny’s heard Taeyong hacking and spitting into the bathroom sink more times than he can count and seen Taeyong’s ass crack peek out over the back of his shorts when he bends over to change the music at dance practice. He realizes the two of them have just been staring at one another for what could have been thirty seconds or five minutes when Taeyong clears his throat.

“Let me,” he begins, pauses, and begins again – “I want to do it again.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m not high yet. I want to know what being high is like.”

Impressed, Johnny hands over the bong. Taeyong looks down at it for a second before mumbling, “I uh, I need you to light it for me again.”

“Okay, sweetheart.” Taeyong’s nose wrinkles. It’s cute. This time Johnny jimmies the bowlpiece off of the tube before the bottle is completely full of smoke, and Taeyong gets a smoother hit. Afterwards he clears his throat, and then blinks and coughs again in a lower register. He frowns a little bit and lets out a little “ah.” Then he turns to Johnny, suspicion evident on his face.

Johnny doesn’t know what to expect, but when Taeyong asks, “Does my voice sound different now?” he just laughs. Here it comes.

“What do you mean,” Johnny responds, amused.

“I think it’s a little rougher, lower maybe?”

“Sexier, you mean?”

“You said it, not me,” Taeyong says, pursing his lips. He probably doesn’t even realize that he’s doing it, but it makes all of Johnny’s attention go to his mouth. “What do you do when you get high?” he asks.

“I dunno, think about the universe?” Johnny suggests.

“Do you think we have a greater purpose?” Taeyong shoots.

“Wow, you really just went for it, didn’t you? I don’t know, man, what do you think?”

“I think there’s not a point to anything,” Taeyong replies, laying down on the roof and folding his hands under his head.

“That’s dark,” Johnny replies, packing up his things and moving to lay down next to him.

“I don’t think it is,” Taeyong says. He glances at Johnny out of the corner of his eye, and Johnny rolls onto his side to look at him straight on. “I think that the kind of freedom that comes with… a lack of purpose… I think that might be what makes us different from animals.”

“Whoa, sounds deep. Go on.”

“Because, like, we’re the same as animals because we have nature telling us to hunt for food and reproduce. But that’s… every animal just eats and fucks because that’s the universe telling it that the main point of it all is to make more animals.”

“Bonobos and dolphins have sex for pleasure.”

“I don’t even want to know why you know that,” Taeyong laughs. “But we’ve already populated the world with humans. There’s definitely too many of us now for the continuation of the race to be a big concern anymore. So we don’t have the same greater purpose that other animals do.”

“Would you be disappointed in me if I told you that food and sex are still my biggest motivators?”

“You have already disappointed me so many times,” Taeyong says fondly.

“Okay, fair. Have you ever read Sartre?”

“Who?”

“Right, me neither. So, what, everything is pointless? Nothing matters?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. But…” Taeyong’s eyes widen and he turns his head to face Johnny, eyes wide. “Have you ever thought about, oh wow, how everything that matters, besides eating and making babies, everything that matters is stuff that we’ve made ourselves?”

“Explain.”

“Like, I’m worried about smoking weed, because I’m worried about losing my job or getting arrested, right?”

“Right. Also, sorry.”

“But I’d get fired or arrested because of the law, which is _something we made_. And also, my job is something that we made, and so is jail.”

“But not wanting to get fired from your job is kind of logical if you think about how that’s what gives you money so you can eat.”

“Oh, you’re right. And being in jail keeps you from having sex, so that’s also logical.”

“Well… actually, nevermind.”

“I guess what I’m saying is that, the stuff that actually influences us as people, instead of as animals, is the stuff that we _created_ as people, like rules and society and relationships and stuff.”

“God, I can’t believe we’re having this conversation right now.”

Taeyong ignores him, and Johnny is glad, because he doesn’t actually want him to stop speaking. He realizes at that moment how close the two of them are. He can feel Taeyong’s breath on his face as he talks.

“If you think about it,” he’s saying, “I guess that means that our purpose as a species is _also_ manmade. Since we cultivated the world that we currently live in, then… wait, I need to think about this a bit more…” Taeyong lifts a hand to his lips and nibbles on the knuckle of his index finger in thought. Johnny watches him quietly, not bothering to break the silence and instead focusing on the little dip of Taeyong’s cupid’s bow. Okay, so maybe Johnny’s a little attracted to men. Or maybe his sweaty palms are just a natural reaction to being so close to a face as beautiful as Taeyong’s.

It’s not gay to think Taeyong is attractive. _Everyone_ thinks Taeyong is attractive. Johnny pushes all thoughts of closing the space between their mouths out of his mind, afraid that his body will follow through on what his brain is suggesting.

“Hey,” Taeyong says suddenly. Johnny’s eyes flash back up to meet his, and there’s something unreadable there, something that gives him a painful little tingle of hope that Taeyong might actually kiss him. He doesn’t, of course (that would be stupid), instead just saying, “I like talking to you.” Which, thinking about it, might even be kind of gayer than what Johnny was hoping for.

“I like it too. You’re a fun person to talk to when you’re high,” Johnny says. “Not that you’re boring when you’re sober or anything, it’s just nice to hear you like this. You’re smarter than we give you credit for, I think.”

“Thanks,” Taeyong snorts. And then he falls quiet again, and he might even be looking at Johnny’s mouth, but it might also be a trick of the light.

“What are you thinking about?” Johnny asks, testing the waters.

“I’m wondering how you got that weed from America to Korea without getting caught,” Taeyong says, and the mood dies along with a piece of Johnny’s soul.

“I, uh,” Johnny chuckles nervously, “…You really want to know?”

“I asked, didn’t I?” Taeyong says, raising an eyebrow.

Johnny swallows even though the weed gave him drymouth. “Don’t laugh,” he warns. “I hid it. In my butt.”

Taeyong’s eyes bug out and, to his credit, he attempts to pass off his snicker as a cough. “That sucks. Did it hurt?”

“Not really, no.”

“No way. It must have been really uncomfortable.”

“Uh, a little bit? Towards the end of the trip I really just wanted to take a shit.”

Taeyong laughs at this, his teeth glinting in the darkness. “Yeah, no kidding. How did you pull that off?”

“Practice.”

“You mean you…?”

“Yes.”

“You—?”

“ _Yes_. Ah, this is embarrassing.”

“Sorry.” Taeyong whistles. “What’s it like?”

“Well, it’s different when you’ve got weed up your ass for half a day. But when it’s just for a bit, it’s, ah man, it’s pretty nice?”

“No shit?”

“Yeah, you know about the prostate?” Johnny can’t believe he’s talking about this, especially not with Taeyong. It’s been a pretty weird night.

“Yeah, my uncle’s got the cancer.”

“Oh, uh, that sucks. But also, it’s like a g-spot up your ass.” Johnny pauses. “You… you know what a g-spot is, right?”

“Don’t insult me, I’m only half a year younger than you,” Taeyong says, flicking Johnny in the shoulder. “But you’re serious? It feels good?”

“So good. Way good.” Johnny hesitates for a split second and adds, “it makes you cum, like, ten times harder.”

Taeyong nods seriously, clearly deep in thought. “How do you find it?”

Johnny tries not to imagine the implications of this question. “Well apparently it’s behind your bladder, so you gotta… reach around in there until you find it.”

“And then what?”

Johnny looks at him incredulously. “Do you mean, what do _I_ do, or what would _anyone_ do? Because the obvious answer is that you just do whatever feels good.”

Taeyong hums. “What do _you_ do?” he asks, and then his eyes widen. “You don’t have to– if you don’t want to you don’t have to answer, I’m sorry—”

Johnny laughs, his heart pounding. “It’s okay, man. I just like to jerk off like I normally do. It’s not rocket science.”

“Ah…” Taeyong replies. “So… how do _I_ do it?” Johnny chokes on his spit a little.

“You want me to draw up step-by-step instructions?” he offers.

“No, no, just, um…” Taeyong trails off, and then says, “Have you seen _The Runaways_?”

 

And that’s how they end up in the bathroom at three in the morning, Johnny sitting on the closed toilet lid and Taeyong in the shower, borrowing Johnny’s lube and trying to get another finger into his ass. It’s pretty surreal.

“It hurts,” Taeyong gripes.

“More lube,” Johnny suggests, not focusing at all on the magazine in his lap. “The answer is always more lube.”

The telltale sound of a bottle snapping open and shut is followed by a small grunt that Johnny chooses to ignore.

“Okay, that’s two fingers, now what?” Taeyong’s breathless voice asks over the sound of rushing water.

“How’s it feel?”

“Like I need to take a dump.”

“Hot. Okay, see if you can separate them, wiggle them around a little bit.”

“Aagh,” says Taeyong, and Johnny suddenly realizes that under different circumstances, giving his friend orders on how to touch himself would be pretty mind-blowingly sexy. But instead, here they are, Johnny fully clothed and rereading the same paragraph over and over again, Taeyong muttering curses to himself and completely oblivious to whatever sexual tension he’s enabling. It’s kind of funny how unsexy it is, actually.

“When is it supposed to start feeling good?” Taeyong complains.

“When you open your mind to the possibilities.”

“As if opening my asshole isn’t enough… I’m losing patience here, Seo.”

“Try curling your fingers forward, that’s probably where your prostate is.”

“ _Aaagh_. This is annoying. My hand hurts.”

“Do you need me to take over?” Johnny jokes.

“Only if you think you can find my prostate,” Taeyong replies dead seriously.

Johnny balks. Then he swallows and says, in as nonchalant a voice as he can muster, “Don’t be lazy.”

Taeyong responds, clearly through gritted teeth, “Seo Youngho, I am losing faith in this mystical magical male g-spot of yours. If I can’t get this to work, I’ll be a broken man.”

“Alright, don’t cry, I’m coming in,” Johnny sighs, putting down the magazine and getting to his feet. He steps out of his pants and shrugs off his shirt, heart thrumming in his ribcage. He doesn’t get the chance to prepare himself for what’s waiting in the shower when he pulls back the curtain.

Taeyong’s there, arm braced against the wall, lower lip caught in his teeth as he touches himself, arm twisted around and two fingers buried in his ass as far as the angle will allow. Droplets of water drip from his hair and collect on his collarbones, sliding down his spine and over the gentle swell of his ass. His skin looks so soft, and Johnny is broken out of his trance when Taeyong clears his throat, a blush spreading down his neck.

“Please don’t stare, just come in and help me,” he whispers. Johnny nods, hoping Taeyong won’t notice how his dick just twitched a little bit, and steps in under the spray of warm water. He circles a hand gently around Taeyong’s wrist and moves it away, carefully pulling his fingers out.

“Turn around,” Johnny murmurs, moving to stand behind him. He notices that Taeyong isn’t hard, and hesitantly reaches out to run his hands up and down his sides. Taeyong jumps a little at first before relaxing into his touch. “It’s easier if you’re turned on,” Johnny says quietly, stroking Taeyong’s skin lightly with his thumbs. “What do you usually do to get off?”

Taeyong makes an “I dunno” noise, but starts tracing his fingers over his stomach, teasing down over his hipbones before running his hands back up his chest to graze over his nipples. Wow, that’s, okay. Taeyong leans his head back to rest against Johnny’s shoulder. “This is embarrassing,” he groans.

“Do you want to stop?” Johnny asks. Taeyong shakes his head, his wet hair hitting the side of Johnny’s neck. Johnny hums an acknowledgement and slides a hand down behind Taeyong to slip a finger between his ass cheeks. Taeyong grunts, and Johnny says, “Alright, you definitely weren’t using enough lube. Where’d you put the bottle?”

“There.” Taeyong nods towards the edge of the bathtub, by the faucet. Johnny bends down and leans past him, his ear lightly grazing Taeyong’s outer thigh. He grabs the bottle and straightens up, squeezing a generous amount of lube over his hand and fingers.

“Bend over a little, okay?” Johnny asks.

Taeyong complies, placing his hands against the wall. “Agh,” he says, “This is weird. Two guys shouldn’t be doing this.”

Johnny snorts. “I hate to break it to you, but guys do this kind of thing all the time.”

“Not straight guys,” Taeyong points out, and Johnny doesn’t have a response to that. Instead he just uses his knee to nudge Taeyong’s legs a little farther apart. He kneels so that Taeyong’s ass is face-height (nice) and spreads his cheeks with one hand while pressing his index finger against his entrance. Taeyong sucks in a sharp breath and Johnny pauses to pat his lower back.

“You have to relax, okay? Try jerking off,” he suggests. Taeyong’s hand wanders obediently downward and Johnny forces his attention elsewhere. He slowly pushes his finger inside to the first and then the second knuckle glancing up to see if Taeyong’s doing alright. He’s got his eyes screwed shut and his face is a brilliant shade of pink, and Johnny would laugh if he didn’t know that Taeyong would kick him out for doing so. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Taeyong grits out. “I’m fine. Add another goddamn finger.”

Johnny does laugh a little at the tough guy act, but he obeys, pulling out one finger and pushing in two. He hears Taeyong draw in a shaky breath and pauses, rubbing his other hand comfortingly up his thigh and hip. After a few seconds he hears a low exhale, and then Taeyong cranes his head to look down at him.

“Okay, move. Do something,” he says. Johnny complies, drawing his fingers out and pushing them back in. He scissors them and feels Taeyong’s legs start to tremble.

“You okay?” he asks, glancing up but continuing to move his fingers in and out.

“Yes,” Taeyong whispers. His confident act has melted away, and his eyes are glued to the tile wall in front of him as he gently tugs on his own half-hard dick. “Keep going.”

Johnny hums and crooks his fingers, searching inside of Taeyong for what he hopes will make him feel good. Taeyong groans and Johnny’s head snaps up. “Good?” he asks.

“No,” Taeyong says through gritted teeth.

“Oh. Bad?”

“N-no,” Taeyong says again. “Keep going.” Johnny sighs and follows his orders. The slide gets slightly easier as Taeyong’s hole is stretched. “It’s not… horrible,” Taeyong mutters, the hand on his cock slowing slightly. “I still don’t get what all the fuss is about, but it feels… hm.” He trails off, head bowing slightly.

“Feels kind of hot, right?” Johnny offers. Taeyong nods, looking down to give him an embarrassed smile before remembering that eye contact would make it gay. He looks away quickly, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Johnny snorts and wiggles his fingers again.

“Aah,” Taeyong mumbles. Wait, was that a real moan? Johnny swallows the confidence that bubbles up in his chest and keeps his hand moving, drawing his fingers out once again and driving them back in at an angle. He curls the digits inside and he feels Taeyong’s body stiffen, a loud groan slipping from his mouth before he covers his face in his hands.

“There?” Johnny asks, feeling his heartrate pick up.

“What _was_ that?” Taeyong breathes.

“ _That_ would be your prostate, I think,” Johnny responds. He experimentally quirks his fingers in approximately the same way and Taeyong lets out another chesty moan.

“S’good,” he says, leaning forward more to press his cheek against the wall. Johnny gets a glimpse of the side of his face and it’s enough to make his pulse go straight to his dick. Taeyong’s eyes are half-lidded, his mouth hanging slightly open. His damp hair sticks to his cheekbones and forehead, and his lips are wet and shiny. Johnny kind of wants to spin him around and pin him to the shower wall with a kiss, but instead he buries his feelings and keeps brushing against Taeyong’s prostate.

At this point, Taeyong’s jaw is slack, and he’s letting out a soft moan with every movement of Johnny’s fingers.

“Do you get it now?” Johnny teases.

“Yes, _yes_ , I get it,” Taeyong whines, “please don’t stop.”

“Okay,” Johnny murmurs, “I’m gonna add another finger, but you have to stay quiet, alright? The others are sleeping, remember.”

“Mhm,” Taeyong whimpers, biting his lower lip. God dammit. Johnny withdraws his hand to add more lube before sliding three fingers back in. He can feel Taeyong’s legs shaking against his shoulders.

“Do you want to sit down?” Johnny asks softly. “I think we could get a better angle like that anyway.” Taeyong nods, and Johnny straightens up and steps back so that he can turn around to face him. “You sure you don’t want to give me a kiss?” he asks, half-jokingly. Taeyong doesn’t laugh. Instead his eyebrows pinch together slightly in thought. Johnny can tell he’s conflicted, and he feels kind of bad for bringing it up.

“Okay,” Taeyong whispers. “But,” he quickly adds before Johnny can do anything, “this doesn’t change anything, right? We’re not… we’re just friends.” Johnny nods, keeping a solemn expression. He reaches up with his clean hand to gently cup the side of Taeyong’s face, and then he leans in to kiss him softly.

It’s… weird. Maybe because neither of them have kissed anyone in a while, or maybe because Taeyong is straight after all, but there’s some kind of block in there that makes the touch of lips against lips feel like… just a touch. Johnny tries not to get too disappointed as he tilts his head to the side slightly, allowing his mouth to slot together with Taeyong’s. They break apart after barely half a minute.

“Can we keep going now?” Taeyong asks, embarrassed. Johnny nods.

“I’m glad we did that, though,” he says, mostly to himself. “I feel like going straight to fingering without even a kiss is a little…” He trails off, but Taeyong nods as if he agrees. Johnny steps back again and maneuvers into a sitting position, watching Taeyong’s erection bob between his legs as he does the same. They position themselves so that Taeyong is almost in Johnny’s lap, facing him, his legs slightly bent and hooked over Johnny’s thighs, while Johnny’s ankles are crossed behind Taeyong’s waist. Taeyong leans back to give Johnny better access, embarrassedly turning his head away when he realizes that his asshole is on full display.

Johnny sighs and smiles, rubbing Taeyong’s inner thigh apologetically with one hand while reaching for lube with the other. Soon he’s got three fingers back inside of him. Their new position on the shower floor gives him perfect access to Taeyong’s prostate, and Johnny only has to barely curl his fingers before Taeyong’s head jerks back, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth falling open. Johnny gets to watch as Taeyong’s dick jumps slightly against his stomach.

“Touch yourself,” Johnny commands in a rough voice out of nowhere, and Taeyong whimpers a little but obeys, wrapping a hand around his cock and stroking it slowly. “Good,” Johnny says, his throat dry. Johnny’s own dick is pretty hard as well, and he’s sure Taeyong has to have noticed. Part of him wants to touch himself, but another part of him wants to give his full attention to the beautiful boy in his lap, and most of him is terrified of what Taeyong would think if he started getting himself off, so he decides to ignore his own arousal in favor of pleasuring Taeyong instead.

He seems to be doing a good job of it. Taeyong’s head tilts forward as he jacks himself off, small short moans escaping his parted lips with every thrust and quirk of Johnny’s fingers. His dark brows are furrowed and his chest rises and falls rapidly, stained a blushy pink.

“Let me know when you’re close,” Johnny says.

“I’m close,” Taeyong replies immediately. Before he can convince himself not to, Johnny reaches out and knocks Taeyong’s hand away from his cock, replacing it with his own and jerking roughly, matching the rhythm with that of his thrusts against Taeyong’s prostate. If Taeyong has a problem with this development, he doesn’t show it, and instead he lets out a deep-belly groan that evolves into breathy whimpers, and then he screws his eyes shut and cums over Johnny’s fist and his own stomach. Johnny watches, fascinated, pumping him until he whimpers and bats weakly at his hand. When he draws back, Taeyong seems to deflate, arms flopping by his sides and head hitting the shower wall behind him with a thunk.

“Come here,” Johnny suggests, pulling Taeyong into his arms. Taeyong doesn’t protest, pressing his face into Johnny’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around his neck.

“I can feel your boner,” he mumbles, and Johnny laughs.

“You seemed to be having fun, that’s all,” he says.

“I did,” Taeyong murmurs. And then, surprisingly, he lifts his head and gives Johnny a little kiss on the cheek. “Thank you,” he says, tucking his face back into Johnny’s neck.

“Mhm.”

Johnny inhales, and exhales, and rubs at Taeyong’s lower back. The two of them don’t move from their spot until the water starts to run cold.

 

The next day is… difficult. Taeyong refuses to even look at him, and Johnny worries that he’s made a terrible mistake. They have a relatively short day of unsupervised practice, and aside from when their dance formation demands that the two of them are close together, Taeyong acts as if he and Johnny are magnets with matching poles, drifting away whenever Johnny approaches him.

The others clearly pick up on it. Doyoung nudges Taeil and whispers something to him. Johnny sees Taeil shrug, and then they make eye contact and Taeil tilts his head to the side, a silent question. Johnny shakes his head.

Later, when they are breaking for lunch and Johnny offers to accompany Taeyong and Jaehyun to the café nearby, Taeyong hurriedly assures him that they don’t need the extra help but thank you, and he somewhat casually pushes Jaehyun out with a hand on his shoulder. Jaehyun shoots Johnny an apologetic look over his shoulder but allows himself to be led out.

“What’s up Taeyong’s ass today?” Yuta asks, making Johnny’s stomach jump.

“I don’t know,” he lies. Yuta clearly doesn’t believe him.

“Whatever,” he says, “I guess it’s your business.”

Johnny feels guilty, but it’s not just his secret to keep: Taeyong is the one who would suffer the most from it, right? When he attempts to avoid Yuta’s judgemental raised eyebrow, his gaze meets Ten’s from across the room.

Ten’s expression isn’t asking a question. Instead it’s almost… accusatory. Johnny feels the blood drain from his face. He runs a hand through his hair and excuses himself to the bathroom. He doesn’t expect Ten to follow him.

He’s splashing cold water on his face when he hears the bathroom door open. He doesn’t even have to turn around to know who it is – he knows all the member’s footsteps by heart. Ten leans against the wall behind him, folding his arms and staring at him in the mirror.

When Johnny doesn’t say anything, instead silently drying his face and hands with the stiff paper towels from the dispenser, Ten clears his throat.

“What’s going on with you and Taeyong?” he asks. When Johnny opens his mouth, Ten interrupts him. “And don’t say ‘I don’t know’ or ‘nothing,’ you can’t lie to me. And I’m not going to respect your privacy like the others. _Tell me what’s wrong_.”

Johnny shuts his mouth again and exhales through his nose, pushing his damp bangs out of his face. “It’s… complicated,” he says. Ten rolls his eyes.

“Here, let me help you,” he says. “Does it have anything to do with what you two were doing in the bathroom last night?”

Johnny feels his heart drop into his stomach. “What do you know about that?”

Ten shrugs. “Just that the two of you were in there for a while. What, did you guys get high and decide to bathe together at two in the morning?”

“Something like that,” Johnny admits.

“Did you guys have a fight?” Ten asks.

“Um, not exactly,” Johnny replies, scratching the back of his neck. Time to make the split decision whether to fabricate a lie or come clean. He can already feel Ten’s dark eyes wearing against his façade. “Okay,” he says with a deep exhale. “I’ll tell you what happened, but you have to promise not to say anything or act differently in front of the others, alright?”

Ten’s eyes twinkle with curiosity but he maintains a straight face as he nods. Johnny feels his ears heating up in anticipation and he swallows his nerves.

“Taeyong and I… well, I guess we kind of… hooked up?”

Ten blinks.

“I mean, we got… intimate. In the shower. I don’t—” and Johnny cuts himself off because Ten looks like he just got slapped in the face. And there’s that guilt again, like a spiny creature gnawing at the base of Johnny’s heart. Except this time, he doesn’t know where it’s coming from.

“Oh,” Ten says quietly.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Johnny says. “I don’t want Taeyong to get in trouble.”

“I won’t,” Ten says, even more quietly this time. As if he realizes that his eyebrows are drawing closer and closer together, he settles his face into something expressionless, which disturbs Johnny even more.

“Thanks,” Johnny says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. He reaches out to put a hand on Ten’s shoulder, but to his surprise, Ten actually jerks away.

They stare at each other for half a second before Ten lets out a nervous giggle that quickly falls silent, his face flickering between grim laughter and something else, something sad.

“You should go back,” Ten says, his voice slightly hoarse.

“Are you sure? Don’t you think we should talk about—”

“No,” Ten insists. “I have to pee, anyway.” He attempts a smile again, and Johnny’s seen that smile before. It’s tired and forced and usually reserved for strangers. He can feel something small breaking inside his heart. But he nods, and turns to head back to the practice room.

This has been a really hard day.

Almost ten minutes pass, and Taeyong and Jaehyun are coming back with snacks before Ten has come out of the restroom. Taeyong’s cold shoulder seems to have been thawed out somewhat, probably by something that Jaehyun said. He even makes gentle small talk with Johnny, who doesn’t pay much attention besides half-smiling and grunting in response. How could he, when Ten has finally returned, sporting slightly swollen eyes?

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's shorter bc, as i said, this fic is technically unfinished but i bet you'll like it anyway :P

Next time someone on a variety show asks him what his “special talent” is, Johnny’s going to say that it’s fucking everything up.

That night he gets so high the world starts bending in front of his eyes, his vision distorting and compressing every time he blinks. He lays on his back on the dirty roof, staring up at the sky and wondering when it all got so complicated.

Maybe it was when he started smoking weed. Yeah, that might’ve been it.

The city sky is lit up by light pollution, almost a pale purplish color. Johnny imagines breaking through it, tearing through the smog and taking a deep breath outside of the atmosphere. He imagines the stars.

His breath catches in his lungs when, for a moment, he can feel his body lifting up off the ground, rising gently upwards towards heaven. Then he shifts his weight a little bit, reaffirms that his back is still connected to the roof, and curses himself a little for not giving himself up to the fantasy. He should’ve just floated away.

 _How to Alienate Your Closest Friends in 24 Hours: A Screenplay by Johnny Seo_.

Johnny snorts humorlessly to himself and throws an arm over his face, the pressure causing little colored ripples to appear in the darkness behind his closed eyes. He should have brought up his phone so that he could listen to music and escape from his head for a bit. He shouldn’t have had sex with Taeyong. _No, we’re not gonna think about that_.

Instead he tries to find the lifting feeling again, arching his back and groaning in disappointment when it just seems to push his head back against the ground. He opens his eyes and the sky is cloudy and blank and unforgiving.

But was it even sex, though? They barely even kissed, and it was just awkward and stupid and in the moment it seemed logical but really it was nothing more than – _no, we’re not thinking about that, remember?_

Johnny tries to think about anything else, but his mind keeps returning to the smile that Ten gave him, tight around the eyes and the sides of the mouth like his features were connected to puppet strings. It’s like being pricked in the heart with a pin and bleeding out slowly.

He hears the door to the roof creaking open and nearly goes into cardiac arrest, jerking to a sitting position and fumbling to drag the duffel full of contraband behind him before realizing that it’s Jaehyun, who is pajama-clad and zipping up his hoodie over his bare chest. He gives Johnny a little wave and closes the door discreetly behind him before coming over to sit down.

“Hi,” Johnny says dumbly.

“Hi,” Jaehyun replies. “I asked Taeyong where you’ve been sneaking off to these past couple of weeks and he said you would come here.”

“Is Taeyong still awake?” Johnny asks in spite of himself.

“No, this was earlier that I asked him,” Jaehyun says. “He said you’ve been smoking pot up here.”

“What a narc,” Johnny scowls.

Jaehyun lets out a breathy laugh and smiles. “He also said you two… got into some trouble last night.”

“Oh, is _that_ what he said,” Johnny deadpans.

“Well, not in those words, exactly. But yeah, consider me _in the loop_ ,” Jaehyun says. “I just want to see if you know what that has to do with Ten.”

“God,” Johnny says, leaning his head back to glare at the sky. “I have no idea.”

“I think you do,” Jaehyun says. “I think you know exactly why he’s upset, and I think you would be upset too if your positions were switched.”

Johnny frowns at him. “Excuse me?”

Jaehyun sighs. “Just go talk to him. I promise it will make everything better if you just ask him what’s wrong, okay?”

Johnny groans. “I’m too high for this,” he says, burying his face in his hands. Jaehyun rubs his upper back comfortingly.

“I know I’m younger than you and it’s not really my place to give you advice,” he says, “But you’ve really made a mess and it sucks and by all means, keep burning your brain cells on this roof so that you don’t have to think about it. I bet that’s been working out real well so far, yeah?”

“Ugh, shut up,” Johnny mumbles. “This pep talk is making me feel terrible.”

“It’s not a pep talk,” Jaehyun says gently. “It’s a get-your-shit-together talk. I’m just trying to help. _Talk to Ten_. I promise it won’t be as hard as it seems.”

Johnny doesn’t respond. Instead he leans over and rests his head on Jaehyun’s shoulder. He feels Jaehyun’s arm come up to wrap around him and he shudders, not necessarily crying, just feeling the emotions bubble up and wash over him like tides.

“I fucked everything up,” he whispers.

“No, you didn’t,” Jaehyun says softly. He keeps rubbing Johnny’s back, and he smells good, and after a few minutes, Johnny’s starting to feel a little better.

 

They head back downstairs, and Johnny is about to go back to their shared room when Jaehyun stops following him. Johnny raises his eyebrows, watching as he walks to the kitchen and pointedly examines the contents of the refrigerator.

“What?” he says when he notices Johnny giving him a look. “I’m just gonna get a midnight snack. You go ahead to bed.”

Johnny squints at him, not knowing why he’s acting so shifty until he goes into his room.

Ten’s there, sitting on Johnny’s bed. “Hi,” he says quietly.

“Hi,” Johnny responds, blinking. “Did Jaehyun put you up to this?”

“Um, actually… I kind of put _Jaehyun_ up to this,” Ten says, laughing softly. Although his smile is nervous, at least this time it seems genuine, and Johnny feels some tension leave his shoulders as he walks over to him.

“Ah,” he says. “Mind if I sit down?”

“It’s _your_ bed,” Ten teases, patting the mattress next to him.

Johnny huffs a laugh and sits, resting his elbows on his knees and pressing his hands together. He swallows. “I guess we should talk,” he says.

“Yeah,” Ten replies. “I guess so.” And then they sit in silence for another minute. Johnny glances at Ten. Ten’s got his lower lip between his teeth and when he notices Johnny staring he releases it and smiles awkwardly. Johnny smiles back. For some reason, he can’t think of what to say.

“Okay, I guess I’ll start,” Ten says finally, saving him the trouble. “I’m sorry for freaking out earlier.”

“…That was what you’d call freaking out?” Johnny asks incredulously. Ten giggles, embarrassed.

“I guess that’s not the right word for it. You just… caught me off guard.” He’s quiet for a second. “Okay, I guess that’s not entirely true,” he sighs. “You also made me sad.”

“I thought so,” Johnny said. “I’m sorry.”

Ten waves his hand. “It’s fine, but I’m not finished. The reason I was sad was because…” he trails off and takes a shaky breath. Johnny hesitantly places a hand on his knee, and Ten looks at him thankfully, almost shy, and places one of his own hands on top of it. “Well,” he continues, “When we were in America, and we were roommates… I guess I really liked what we had going on. Like… it was nice. Intimate? And…”

“I know—”

“Shut up, I’m not done. Basically, I really liked… you know, sleeping with you, and talking about dumb shit and just spending time with you, even when you were being a stoner dumbass. And I guess I got… attached,” Ten says. His hand has tightened over Johnny’s. Johnny rearranges them so that they interlock their fingers. Ten gives him a thankful squeeze. “And I didn’t want to… do anything to change what was happening, so I was afraid to tell you how I felt because I thought you were straight.”

Ah.

“And then when you told me you hooked up with Taeyong I just thought, oh, it’s not that he’s not gay, it’s just that he doesn’t want to be with _me_. And it felt really bad.” Ten bows his head, but Johnny’s already seen the misty eyes he’s trying to hide.

“It should’ve been you,” he mutters, shaking his head.

“What?” Ten glances up, eyes threatening to spill over.

“Well, maybe it shouldn’t have happened at all, that thing with Taeyong. But if it had to happen with someone it should have been you,” Johnny says. Ten’s got his hand in a death grip now, and Johnny runs a thumb over his knuckles, trying to make sense of everything.

“Are you serious?” Ten asks with a watery laugh.

“Yeah,” Johnny says, slowly realizing what he means as he says it. “I guess I feel more comfortable with you than I do with anyone. I should have kept close to you.”

Ten’s tears finally escape and he’s immediately trying to scrub them back in, his free hand rubbing mercilessly over his eyes. Johnny reaches out to grab his wrist and gently pull it away from his face. Then he gently swipes a thumb over Ten’s cheekbone. Ten closes his eyes and takes a shaky breath.

“I guess this is obvious at this point but, I like you Johnny,” he says.

Johnny feels his face break into a smile. “I like you too,” he says, and he feels himself meaning it. He keeps his hand on the side of Ten’s face, gently stroking his thumb across it even after the tears have dried. Ten doesn’t seem to mind.

“I’m sorry for crying,” he whispers.

“Don’t be dumb,” Johnny says. Then he says, “Can I kiss you?” And it’s not like with Taeyong, with doubt curling in the pit of his stomach. Instead there’s hope, making his heart feel light and warm.

Ten nods vigorously and Johnny can tell he’s trying not to start crying again. Cute. Johnny only has to lean over the slightest bit before their lips touch.

It’s barely a brush at first. Maybe because Johnny’s nervous, he keeps his head still until Ten curves an arm around his shoulders and pulls him in closer, and then they kiss for real. And it’s different from what Johnny’s used to.

It’s not like kissing girls, with the smell of makeup and shower gel, the softness and hesitance. And it’s not at _all_ like kissing Taeyong, with the abrupt meeting of lips and the feeling of his heart caught in his throat. Instead it’s just warm, and Ten sighs against his mouth, and Johnny knows he’s making the right choice.

Ten’s lips are smooth like a girl’s, but different, and the way they move against Johnny’s makes him think of the deep sea, surging and ever-changing but still serene. It’s like he himself is underwater: he feels weightless, and it’s as if everything around him is muted slightly. And Johnny realizes that he’s still, in fact, very high. It feels like the world is moving in slow-motion.

They break the kiss but keep their faces close together, noses almost brushing. Ten giggles, his eyes scrunching up adorably. Johnny groans and kisses his cheek.

“You smell like weed,” Ten says.

“Sorry,” Johnny mumbles, pressing more kisses against his temple and jawline.

“It’s okay,” Ten responds, tilting his head to the side to allow Johnny access to his neck. He hums happily when Johnny kisses the hollow beneath where his jawline meets his ear.

“You should sleep here tonight,” Johnny murmurs, leaning back and taking Ten’s hands in his again.

“Only if it means I get to kiss you again,” Ten says. Instead of replying, Johnny answers him with another kiss, this one firmer and rougher and with enough force to cause both of them to topple over so that Johnny has Ten pressed into the mattress. Ten’s soft laughter turns into a sigh when Johnny runs his tongue over Ten’s lower lip. Johnny bites it gently and Ten’s gasp allows him to venture further into his mouth, their kiss quickly becoming wet and sloppy. Ten’s hands are suddenly everywhere, on Johnny’s face, in his hair, at the sides of his neck, fingers pressing into his shoulders. Johnny feels his head spinning and has to break away for air, propping himself up on his elbows. He feels Ten’s hands slip under his shirt and brush against his heated skin.

“We should stop,” Johnny pants. Ten raises his eyebrow.

“But we’re having so much _funnn_ ,” he complains, wrapping his legs around Johnny’s hips.

“I know, and I _do_ want to keep going, it’s just…” Johnny sighs and leans down so that their foreheads are touching. “I’m pretty high right now, and I don’t want to go further unless I’m sober. Does that make sense?”

Ten nods and looks down, sighing but smiling. The way his dark lashes fan out against his cheeks makes Johnny want him, and Johnny has to take a deep breath through the nose to fortify his self-control.

Johnny rolls off of Ten and flops onto his back. Ten worms back in to fit comfortably against his body with Johnny’s arm around his shoulders. Johnny hadn’t realized how much he had missed sharing a bed with him.

Now, it’s like the opposite of the floating feeling from earlier. Instead of being lifted Johnny feels his body sinking deeper and deeper into his mattress, with Ten’s head on his shoulder pulling him under. Johnny hasn’t dreamed in a while since he started smoking, but the sleep he gets that night is pleasant and dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, thanks for reading... i'm calling the cops, hope it was worth it


End file.
